


fast as i give in (right into you)

by jjokkiri



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Child!Dohyon, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hangyul Mains Isabelle, Hangyul Works At A Daycare And A Cafe, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Seungyoun Is A Composition Major Who Plays Football, Slow Burn, not American football
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Despite his insistence that he doesn’t want to ruin good things, Seungyoun starts sleeping with Seungwoo’s childhood friend. And his relationship with Hangyul is as ambiguous as his feelings.
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul, Han Seungwoo/Kim Yohan, Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Jinhyuk
Comments: 23
Kudos: 123
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	fast as i give in (right into you)

**Author's Note:**

> **ainomonia** n. fear that learning the name of something—a bird, a constellation, an attractive stranger—will somehow ruin it, transforming a lucky discovery into a conceptual husk pinned in a glass case, which leaves one less mystery to flutter around your head, trying to get in.
> 
> title from NIKI’s _urs_.

Cho Seungyoun was far from a parent.

Seungyoun was nothing more than a third-year university student majoring in Music Composition and the closest thing he had to a child was the slowly wilting plant on his windowsill back in his apartment. So, standing in the middle of a daycare playground and watching kids run around on the pavement felt like he was somewhere that he shouldn’t be.

He was only fifteen meters away from the main campus ground but his mind insisted that he shouldn’t be standing in the middle of a crowd of parents waiting for their children.

 _This was a bad idea,_ he told himself silently.

And in no ways was it bad to be among children—Seungyoun _loved_ children—it just felt a little awkward to be waiting in the middle of the daycare playground when he was surrounded by people who were waiting for their kids. He wasn’t a parent waiting for a child to be dismissed from daycare, so the simple act of standing in the middle of the crowd of waiting parents felt a little weird. Or maybe Seungyoun was just a little awkward no matter what.

He didn’t have a child to wait for.

He wasn’t even old enough to be among the parents standing around him.

He was certainly waiting for someone to come out of the daycare but it wasn’t one of the bright-eyed children sitting in the sandboxes.

With an almost unreasonable nerve tingling in his mind, Seungyoun stared down at his phone impatiently, waiting for it to blink with a notification.

He didn’t know why he felt so nervous to be at the daycare.

Strangely, he felt like he was waiting to pick someone up for a _date_ when the reality of the matter was that he was picking up a friend to take back to his place because they planned a gaming day to take their minds off their studies for an afternoon. It was completely unreasonable for him to feel so nervous.

Besides, he had hung out with Lee Hangyul several times before this. He shouldn’t feel so nervous.

It was _just_ Hangyul.

(But something in his gut told him that there was something he was anticipating even though he couldn’t put a name to the feeling; couldn’t put a name to what he expected at all.)

But then again, maybe that was the problem, to begin with.

Maybe the problem was that he was going to be alone with Hangyul for the first time. Seungyoun didn’t know what made him so nervous about it, though. Hangyul had been to Seungyoun’s apartment before but never alone. The fact that they would be alone was the only thing different. 

_Was that enough to make him feel oddly nervous?_

Over the past few months, their friendship had mainly existed through text messages and nothing more than that. Seungyoun passed by Hangyul often on campus when he walked by the café in the student centre but they never spent time alone together. 

Any time they spent together was always in the presence of their mutual friends. It was _almost_ strange for them to hang out without their friends. Seungyoun supposed that there was something in the back of his mind that whispered that their little hangout was scandalous.

Seungyoun collected Hangyul’s phone number when he first met the younger man at the celebratory party after a successful football game—one that he scored the winning goal in. 

The very first time they met, he remembered it well: Hangyul jumped up and ran from the bleachers as soon as the whistle was blown. He practically jumped into Han Seungwoo’s arms to congratulate him on the team’s victory. Seungwoo caught him with a hearty laugh. They were immediately subjected to prying eyes because _everyone_ knew that the captain of the football team was trying to wheel a different boy—someone who could never make it to the games because of his athletic commitments (much to the entire football team’s dismay). 

Only Seungyoun had been brave enough to voice the concern. And he was met with Seungwoo’s incredulous laughter at the preposterous suggestion. 

Hangyul was introduced to him as Seungwoo’s childhood friend and he had Seungyoun’s interest from their very first meeting. 

It was Hangyul who bravely initiated their first text message conversation with a cheeky smile and a playful wink, saying, ‘ _Any friend of Seungwoo hyung is a friend of mine!’_

They had known one another for a while. It shouldn’t be weird.

He also didn’t know why he was picking Hangyul up from the daycare for their planned hangout. 

(Or well, he _did_ know—he just felt a little too awkward in the middle of the playground to recall that it was _his_ suggestion to pick up Hangyul after his shift because Hangyul worked at the on-campus daycare and they were heading to Seungyoun’s place anyway). 

Trying to settle his nerves, he toyed with the car keys in his hands.

 _Friends were friends._ He tried his best to convince himself of it.

But he couldn’t manage to stand in the same place for too long. He couldn’t stand it when he was standing in the middle of the playground just waiting for someone.

Quickly deciding that he should actively search for Hangyul and end his loitering, Seungyoun scanned the playground in hopes of finding someone that he recognized. 

He was looking for a specific child and he found him sitting in the middle of the sandbox with his legs spread out around a tall sand tower (which awkwardly almost seemed to resemble a castle? Seungyoun made a mental note not to ask the child what it was supposed to be when he approached him).

Seungyoun crouched down next to the familiar child sitting in the sandbox. His looming shadow failed to pull the child’s attention away from his masterpiece. The small child’s tongue was stuck out of his mouth as he moulded a shapeless blob into place on top of the sand tower.

“Hi, Dohyon,” he greeted quietly, careful to not shock the living daylights out of the child with his presence. The small child stopped piling sand onto the messy stack in front of him and looked up at him when he heard his name. He gave a toothy grin to Seungyoun when he recognized him.

“Hi,” the seven-year-old child answered, “Mister Seungyoun.”

Seungyoun chuckled and shook his head. The child’s smile never faded, proud of his ability to remember Seungyoun’s name despite only having met him twice before.

“I’m not old enough for you to call me ‘mister,’ Dohyon.”

Dohyon made a face at the statement. He tilted his head as if racking his brain for alternatives to calling Seungyoun ‘mister’. The child deflated after a moment of deep thought, realizing that he couldn’t wrap his head around other options to call him. His hands comically fell into his lap (careful to avoid the pile of sand in front of him) and he pouted. Seungyoun laughed.

“It’s okay, Dohyon,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. There was an impossible fondness that bloomed in his heart whenever he spoke to the child. “I’ll be Mister Seungyoun this time. Next time, please just call me ‘hyung’.”

“Seungyoun hyung,” Dohyon repeated, his eyebrows furrowed as he enunciated his words.

Determined to commit the instructions to memory, the seven-year-old child nodded his head. There was a fierce look in his eyes, intently focused, and Seungyoun’s lips curved into a fond smile. _He was probably going to forget, but Seungyoun didn’t mind._

“I have a question for you, Dohyon,” he said. “Can you help me?”

Dohyon’s eyes brightened immediately.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, “What is it?”

“Do you know where your teacher is?” he asked. Dohyon pursed his lips, deep in thought.

“Teacher Hangyul?” he asked. Seungyoun nodded his head.

Dohyon made his report with a bright look in his eyes, excited to deliver helpful information to Seungyoun. “Teacher Hangyul is in the classroom. He said he was getting his coat.”

“Oh,” Seungyoun tilted his head. “Can I go into the classroom?”

Dohyon nodded his head, “Yeah!” He paused, “or you can play with me until Teacher Hangyul comes out.”

Seungyoun paused. He crossed his arms and rested them comfortably on his knees.

“You want me to play with you?” he asked. With a bright smile, Dohyon nodded his head. 

“You can build a castle with me!” Dohyon exclaimed. Seungyoun’s eyes flickered to the pile of sand in front of Dohyon and raised an eyebrow. _So it was a castle._

“I don’t know,” Seungyoun replied, “I’m not very good at building things.”

Dohyon giggled at him. The child proudly put his hands on his hips, “I’m good! I can teach you!”

“Dohyon, who are you talking to— _oh?_ ”

Both Seungyoun and Dohyon turned to look, their attention quickly shifting at the sound of Dohyon’s name being called. Seungyoun glanced up at Hangyul who was just leaving the classroom with his jacket slung over his shoulder. Hangyul looked surprised to see him crouched by the sandbox with the child.

“Hey,” Hangyul greeted him. His cheeks were a little flushed in surprise. He glanced between Seungyoun and the confused child in the sandbox. “I didn’t think you were going to be so… punctual.”

“Seungwoo hyung would kill me if I didn’t know a thing about punctuality,” Seungyoun replied. 

Hangyul laughed, “You’re right.” 

Seungyoun offered him a smile. He didn’t say anything else.

Hangyul paused when he noticed Seungyoun’s eyes on him. The younger man worried at his lower lip as he pondered his words—working out his excuse. He settled by saying, “Hey, Seungyoun hyung… I’m sorry. I’m kind of caught up here because Jinhyuk hyung is running a little late. He asked me to stay with the kids until he could get here. Do you mind hanging around for a bit? It’s okay if you’re not. We could always reschedule.”

Seungyoun shrugged his shoulders.

“Work is work,” he replied. “I get it.”

Hangyul looked hopeful. _Hopeful and a little doubtful._

“You really don’t mind?”

Seungyoun laughed, “What am I going to do? Leave you here?”

Hangyul made a face at that, disapproving of Seungyoun’s teasing. 

Seungyoun chuckled.

“It’s fine, Hangyul,” he said. He glanced at Dohyon, who was still helplessly staring at his teacher’s exchange with Seungyoun, “Besides, this one wanted me to build a sandcastle with him.”

Dohyon’s eyes immediately brightened.

* * *

“You know, I’m really sorry,” Hangyul told him with a small frown on his lips when he was seated on Seungyoun’s sofa with a controller in his hands. They immediately dropped onto Seungyoun’s sofa and started up the console when they got back to Seungyoun’s apartment. Hangyul’s jacket was just thrown onto the arm of the sofa, forgotten as he made himself comfortable next to Seungyoun. Hangyul absently toyed with the blue controller in his hands.

A little startled to hear Hangyul apologize out of nowhere, Seungyoun glanced over his shoulder to look at him questioningly as he started up the game. Feeling Seungyoun’s eyes on him, he looked up. He tilted his head when he looked at Seungyoun, eyes wide in apology.

The look in his eyes made something jolt in Seungyoun’s chest, strangely. He chuckled and turned his attention back to the television screen, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I told you that you didn’t need to worry about it, Hangyul.”

Hangyul kept his gaze on Seungyoun for a moment too long. He looked doubtful but the younger man quickly shook it off with a quiet huff. He—much to Seungyoun’s amusement—physically shook himself of the guilt with a sigh.

Seungyoun arched an eyebrow at him, briefly glancing at him with curiosity. Almost immediately, Hangyul caught his eye and flashed a sheepish smile at him, visibly flustered having been caught doing something strange. He scratched the back of his neck with a shy smile. Seungyoun mirrored his smile before he looked away.

Hangyul laughed quietly and shrugged his shoulders.

“I feel bad,” he replied. He looked down at his hands. He twiddled his thumbs against the control sticks on the controller and jammed his tongue against the inside of his mouth. “I made you wait for me when you could have been home so long ago.”

“I waited for you because I wanted to, Hangyul,” Seungyoun replied. “We made a deal to hang out at my place and I wasn’t going to leave you at the daycare when I promised we would game and I would take you home after. Isn’t it a half-hour bus ride back to your place?”

Hangyul shrugged his shoulders. “I made you wait.”

“And I said it’s okay,” he replied. “I did it because I wanted to.”

“You’re too nice to me,” Hangyul muttered. He focused his attention on the character selection screen when it finally loaded. Seungyoun glanced at him curiously.

“That’s nice?” he asked. Hangyul shrugged his shoulders, a vague representation of an answer to a question he didn’t want to answer. “You must not meet very nice men.”

Hangyul snorted at that.

“Are you saying you’re nice?”

“Aren’t I?” Seungyoun jabbed with a grin. “Isn’t that what you just said?”

Hangyul rolled his eyes and elbowed him gently.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, despite the little smirk on his lips.

“Yeah,” Seungyoun chuckled, “and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Okay there,” Hangyul said with an incredulous laugh escaping his lips, half-air and half-sound. “You’re not going to beat me. There’s a limit to how ridiculous you can be, hyung.”

They talked about it over their text messages over the past few days. The hangout was triggered by their constant bragging about how good they were at competitive games.

Hangyul was insistent that he was brilliant at playing Isabelle and no one could beat him. It burned something competitive in Seungyoun when Hangyul started talking—playful trash talk, taunting him to try to beat him at his own game. And Seungyoun refused to lose. He refused to lose to anyone when it came to games (and he especially refused to lose to an adorable yellow puppy). But there was something extra revolting about the concept of losing to Lee Hangyul.

They played three consecutive games before Seungyoun fell back against the sofa with a frustrated groan. He had been hoping that Hangyul was being obnoxious when he insisted that he played a cute puppy like a god, but it seemed Seungyoun was out of luck. Hangyul beat him in every single game they played and smirked at him from his place beside him.

He groaned.

“I hate this,” he declared. Hangyul laughed.

“Does it feel bad losing to someone so cute?” he teased, taunting Seungyoun with the reaction trigger in the game. Seungyoun rolled his eyes when Hangyul’s character waved cutely at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Seungyoun grumbled under his breath.

Hangyul chuckled, “Why, thank you.”

Seungyoun’s lips tugged into an amused smile.

“I’m not calling you cute,” he jabbed.

“Oh?” Hangyul grinned, “I didn’t say that you were, did I? Isabelle is the cutest.”

Seungyoun rolled his eyes. He scrunched up his nose and focused his attention back onto the game. He scrolled through the character selection screen with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, determined to find a character that could knock Hangyul’s Isabelle off of the map. Hangyul had already voiced his determination to not change his character until Seungyoun could finally beat him when he was playing his main hero.

He mirrored Hangyul’s character choice. He scrolled through the skin choices before settling on the blue outfit for the yellow puppy hero.

“Pick up your controller, cutie,” Seungyoun huffed. “You’re going down.”

Hangyul’s eyes glimmered with amusement, “You’re trying to beat me at my own game?”

“It’s worth a shot,” he replied.

Hangyul scrolled through the battlefield maps with a smirk on his lips.

And Seungyoun came so close to finally beating Hangyul—their stocks remained even for a majority of the game and Hangyul only beat him at the last second with a lucky, critical strike when Seungyoun’s Isabelle had already suffered too much damage.

Seungyoun screamed in frustration and Hangyul burst into laughter beside him. His eyes seemed to twinkle with the afternoon light streaming through the window. Seungyoun ignored the way that Hangyul’s small smile had his heart skip a beat when he turned to glare at him.

Determined to beat Hangyul, no matter the cost, Seungyoun focused the character selection screen again. He desperately searched for a character to beat Hangyul into the ground. There came a point where he needed to give up and accept that Hangyul’s main hero was his main hero for a very good reason, but Seungyoun wasn’t willing to accept that he couldn’t beat the younger man, yet. _Hangyul didn’t even own the game!_

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through his options, his mind running through potential combinations he was certain Hangyul couldn’t effectively counter. There was something about Isabelle’s cheerful smile whenever she celebrated her victory that was too infuriating to leave alone. Seungyoun refused to constantly lose.

Hangyul’s soft laughter came from his right.

“Hey,” Hangyul called, softly.

“Hmm?” Seungyoun turned to look at him. “What’s up— _oh_.”

Suddenly, Hangyul was so close to him. Seungyoun didn’t notice him moving closer. He didn’t notice that Hangyul was already nearly pressed up against his side. Their arms were touching and Hangyul was looking up at him from underneath long lashes. Seungyoun took a breath, surprise marrying itself with nervousness. His heartbeat raced in his chest. Suddenly, all of the nerves he felt when he was picking Hangyul up from the daycare rushed back to him.

“Hey,” Seungyoun whispered, almost breathless. Then, almost softer than he had already been whispering, he added, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure,” Hangyul murmured. He placed the controller down onto the sofa without looking, careful to make sure that it wouldn’t fall from any movements.

Seungyoun’s eyes never moved from Hangyul’s face.

He never noticed that Hangyul was so breathtaking. It was strange to be so close to him for so long. Somehow, it felt almost intimate for them to be so close to one another, laughing.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he kept losing. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he was so frustrated that he couldn’t beat Hangyul. A strange, stray thought crossed his mind: _maybe, he didn’t mind losing if it was just to Hangyul._

Seungyoun swallowed around nothing, he swallowed his thoughts.

 _What a strange thing to think about a friend,_ he thought to himself, willing himself to shove the invasive thought away from his mind. There must have been something wrong with him. Spending moments alone with a friend shouldn’t make his mind stray so far from reality.

Hangyul was here to play games with him. Because they were friends. He shouldn’t be having weird thoughts about the younger man.

He shouldn’t be admiring the way the sunlight kissed the curves of Hangyul’s face and traced the sharper edges, just enough to make him look ethereal.

Seungyoun shoved the thoughts away with a hard blink.

His voice was soft when his eyes met with Hangyul’s.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stuff,” Hangyul replied, more of a quiet mumble than anything else. Silently, his hand fell onto Seungyoun’s thigh but his eyes never left the older man’s face. His eyes were focused on Seungyoun’s lips. Suddenly, Seungyoun felt self-conscious. Something was burning in his gut that told him to make the first move but his mind kept him tame—he didn’t know what Hangyul was thinking. He didn’t know what Hangyul wanted.

“Yeah?” His words felt like a soft breath caught in the back of his throat. Hangyul was so close to him and it felt like his breath was being drained away from him with every moment that he looked into Hangyul’s eyes, unable to read what he was thinking.

“Yeah,” Hangyul answered.

Hangyul stared at him quietly, unreadable thoughts flickering in his eyes. And for a moment, everything felt like it was frozen. For a moment, Seungyoun didn’t know what to do with himself except for wait with bated breath for Hangyul to make a move; for Hangyul to move closer to him and act on his thoughts.

He didn’t have to wait long. Something clicked in Hangyul’s eyes, something decisive.

In a flash, Hangyul moved in to close what was left of the space between them. Hangyul’s lips were pressed against his, his eyes closed. Seungyoun’s breath caught in the back of his throat.

Seungyoun dropped his controller onto the sofa and moved his hands to gently rest against the curve of Hangyul’s jawline. He tilted his head to accommodate Hangyul’s kiss and the younger man pressed himself closer, plush lips deepening the kiss. Almost instinctively, already lost in the kiss, Seungyoun swiped his tongue against the younger man’s bottom lip and Hangyul breathed out a soft, pleased sigh against his lips. Seungyoun felt sparks of heat race up the back of his neck and shoot directly down his body.

The game was completely forgotten on the television screen when Hangyul climbed into Seungyoun’s lap and straddled him against the sofa. Seungyoun wrapped his arms around Hangyul’s waist and pulled him flush against his body.

Hangyul broke away from the kiss, panting softly. His forehead remained rested against Seungyoun’s, his eyes closed. His arms remained hooked around Seungyoun’s neck.

Seungyoun’s hands moved down from Hangyul’s waist to rest on his hips.

He raised his eyes to meet with Hangyul’s when the younger man’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

He whispered, “Want to go to my room?”

* * *

He didn’t know what to make of it after the fact. 

As he promised, Seungyoun drove Hangyul home after they spent a few reckless hours in his bed. He offered Hangyul a shirt to wear after he washed up and pretended he didn’t notice the way that Hangyul’s body seemed to be entirely swallowed by the t-shirt he offered. 

When Seungyoun drove Hangyul back to his place, Hangyul kissed him on the cheek before he left the car. Even with the lingering touch of Hangyul’s soft lips on his cheek, though, something in the air felt a little awkward and Seungyoun couldn’t tell if it was _just_ because they had sex or if it was something more than that.

He was certain that it was a one-time thing because he didn’t know what to expect from Hangyul. 

But Hangyul texted him the next week, coy and suggestive despite his conversation opener being innocent. He insisted that he needed to return the shirt that Seungyoun lent him (with a promise that he already had it washed and neatly folded). 

Seungyoun’s phone buzzed on repeat in the late afternoon. Hangyul was playful and too easy to give into when it came to temptation. 

And Seungyoun found the younger man in his bed again.

It cycled.

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Wooseok pointed his pen at Seungyoun with an eyebrow arched. “You had sex with him,” he paused to gauge Seungyoun’s reaction, “ _several_ times. And now, you don’t know what’s going on with your relationship with him?”

“You’re so loud,” Seungyoun hissed under his breath, swatting at his friend. Wooseok shrugged and looked over his shoulder at the people quietly studying in the library.

“No one is listening.”

“What if they are?”

“They’re not,” Wooseok rolled his eyes. 

Seungyoun made a face at his best friend. And if Wooseok didn’t have any self-control and gave into his childish instincts as easily as Seungyoun did, he would have stuck out his tongue at Seungyoun. But, as an unwritten rule of being best friends, one of them had to be reasonably more mature than the other. Wooseok claimed that role for himself.

And, true to his childish instincts, Seungyoun ignored Wooseok in favour of copying words from his textbook into his notebook. He had been the one who invited Wooseok to the library with him, but nothing was stopping him from ignoring Wooseok until the other man took it upon himself to leave him alone. Wooseok would leave when he was bored enough.

Wooseok was being unbearably loud about Seungyoun’s sex life in the library and he knew that no one was listening to them but the potential for strange glares was too high. They already caught attention everywhere they went because Seungyoun played for the varsity football team and because Wooseok was simply nice on the eyes. Seungyoun didn’t need everyone knowing about his sex life because of Mister _Nice On The Eyes_.

Instead of leaving the library because Seungyoun wasn’t talking to him (like Seungyoun secretly hoped he would), Wooseok took it upon himself to speak his mind.

“Wait, Seungyoun,” Wooseok studied him with careful eyes over the top of his iced americano. He pulled back the pen that he was dramatically pointing at Seungyoun (which Seungyoun hadn’t even noticed that Wooseok was still pointing at him). “Do you like him?”

That caught Seungyoun by surprise. He gasped in horror.

“What? _No_!”

Wooseok furrowed his brows, doubtful.

“Are you sure?”

Seungyoun made a face, “What the hell makes you think I like him, Wooseok?”

“Wow, no need to get so defensive,” Wooseok said. He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re worried about what he thinks your relationship is. You’ve had fuck buddies before and you’ve never really cared what they thought because it was all clear that there were no strings attached.”

Seungyoun frowned.

“Yeah, because it was clear?” Seungyoun repeated, his words sounding more like a question than a pointed statement. He didn’t like the way it sounded like he doubted his own words. Seungyoun scrunched up his nose, distastefully. He stopped writing and tapped his pen against the surface of his notebook chewing on his lower lip in thought. “It’s always clear when I have fuck buddies. But, it’s not that clear between Hangyul and I. This just kind of started because he kissed me out of nowhere. There isn’t anything clear about that.”

Wooseok hummed. “And you’re worried.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Frustrated, Seungyoun accidentally broke his mechanical pencil as he scribbled his notes down into the notebook. “Why are you grilling me?”

“You’re the one who came to me for help,” Wooseok said, taking a long sip from the cup of iced coffee in his hands as if trying to prove a point. Seungyoun glared at him. Wooseok tilted his head, “So? What is it that you feel for him that’s making you act all weird about it, Youn?”

“It’s nothing, Wooseok!” he exclaimed, flustered at the suggestion. Wooseok raised an eyebrow at him. Seungyoun huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back in his chair, giving up on scribbling in his notebook when Wooseok was so hellbent on making his life difficult. “Besides, I can’t just hit on Seungwoo hyung’s friend. He’d kill me for it.”

“Seungyoun,” Wooseok stared at him in disbelief. With a pen in his right hand and his cup of iced americano in his other hand, it almost looked too dramatic. Wooseok made a face at him, “Hit on? You’re literally fucking his childhood friend and you’re worried about _hitting on him_?”

Seungyoun looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. 

Then, he leaned closer to Wooseok to whisper, “Listen, I’ll kill you if you tell Seungwoo hyung about my relationship with Hangyul.”

Wooseok made a zipping motion with his hand over his mouth.

“I’m not staying mute because I’m scared of you, by the way,” he remarked. “I just think Seungwoo has more important things to worry about than you and Hangyul. Hangyul is a big boy and he can make his own decisions. If he wants to have sex with you, Seungwoo can’t stop him.”

Wooseok’s phone buzzed before Seungyoun could argue with him.

“That’s my boyfriend,” he declared. Unprompted, he turned the phone to Seungyoun to flash a text message filled with hearts. Seungyoun made a face at him, scrunched and disgusted. Wooseok beamed, pleased at the reaction he earned from his best friend. “I’ll see you later, Youn. Good luck figuring out whatever you’re working out.”

* * *

“You’re so sticky and gross,” Hangyul muttered, his voice soft and quiet—rasped from just having Seungyoun’s cock shoved down his throat. Despite his words, Hangyul wrapped his arms around Seungyoun’s waist and buried his face into his chest, his cheek pressed against the smooth skin just under Seungyoun’s collarbone. 

“And yet, you’re still cuddling with me,” Seungyoun chuckled. He ran his fingers through Hangyul’s hair with a roll of his eyes. The younger man’s naked body was warm against his own.

“You’re warm,” Hangyul answered, simply. “And your room is _so_ cold.”

Cuddling after sex wasn’t something that they did often. 

When they first started casually having sex with one another, Hangyul got dressed and left right after they fucked. When they started, Hangyul turned down Seungyoun’s offer to drive him home more often. But in recent weeks, Hangyul hung around more often. 

In recent weeks, he rested against Seungyoun’s warm body and intimately snuggled against him. Sometimes, he fell asleep on Seungyoun’s chest and Seungyoun wouldn’t have the heart to wake him. He would simply wait for Hangyul to wake up, bleary from sleep. And then, he would softly ask if he wanted him to drive him home. Most of the time, Hangyul accepted his offer.

(Truthfully, cuddling after sex wasn’t something that Seungyoun did with any of his friends with benefits. But, truthfully, Seungyoun didn’t know what kind of label he could put on them. 

There was something different about his relationship with Hangyul, whatever it was—something _thrilling_ because he never knew what to expect when it came to Lee Hangyul.)

Seungyoun rolled his eyes, “You complain too much about the temperature in my apartment. You probably haven’t even noticed that I turned up the heater ever since you started coming over.”

Hangyul snorted in amusement.

“You did it _just for me_?” Something about the way he said it sounded smothering. His smile was obvious in his tone. Seungyoun’s lips tugged into an amused smirk at the way Hangyul spoke.

“I don’t want you freezing to death in my apartment, you sensitive baby.”

Hangyul laughed at that. The sound of his laughter rumbled from his chest and Seungyoun felt it against his own body, Hangyul being pressed up so close to him.

“If I were you, I would turn down the heat so that I would have an excuse to cuddle for warmth,” Hangyul told him. Seungyoun chuckled.

“So, are you just making excuses to cuddle me?” he asked, “Or are you really cold?”

For a split second, Hangyul didn’t say anything. He remained silent. And in his silence, Seungyoun almost let his mind slip to the thought that _maybe_ Hangyul really was just making excuses to cuddle with him.

The younger man laughed, surprising Seungyoun out of his straying thoughts. Seungyoun glanced down at Hangyul, meeting his eyes. His heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you think?”

The question caught him off guard. 

In an attempt to mask his surprise, Seungyoun wrapped his arms around Hangyul’s waist and pulled him on top of his body. Hangyul grunted when Seungyoun pulled him up. He squeezed the younger man’s body and made a noncommittal sound, hoping it sounded nonchalant enough to brush off as absent.

“Don’t know,” he replied. “Does it matter?”

Hangyul made a weird sound in response. He squirmed on top of Seungyoun’s body in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. Hangyul finally stopped squirming on him when Seungyoun’s hand rested just above the curve of his ass to stabilize him.

“… you’re the one who asked.”

Seungyoun shrugged. 

“It honestly doesn’t matter which it is,” he said. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Hangyul’s body. He changed the subject, “Sleep with me.”

“Like this?” Hangyul frowned. He sounded uncertain of himself, uncertain of Seungyoun’s sudden behaviour. “Won’t you be uncomfortable?”

“No, not if you aren’t.”

They fell asleep together, comfortably. Like that.

* * *

“Hey, Hangyul,” Seungyoun stretched out before he buried his face into the pillow next to Hangyul with an exhausted sigh. He always felt drained after longer sessions with Hangyul—like he wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep (preferably with Hangyul still there, not that he would ever admit it aloud). “Has anyone ever told you that you have a very nice voice?”

Hangyul glanced over his shoulder with a funny look on his face. When he realized that Seungyoun wasn’t looking at him, he busied himself with getting dressed. He pulled his sweater over his head and laid back down on the bed, half-draped over Seungyoun’s middle. He shrugged his shoulders.

“A nice voice?” he repeated.

Seungyoun nodded his head. “Yeah, a nice voice.”

“What do you mean?” Hangyul asked, “Like, speaking? Or in bed?”

Seungyoun laughed, the sound muffled by the pillow. He turned to rest his cheek against the soft pillow instead. A small smile danced across his lips and his eyes met with Hangyul’s.

“No,” he replied. “Like, a singing voice.”

Hangyul made a face.

“No,” he said. “No one tells me that. I don’t sing in front of many people. Why?”

“Am I special?” he teased. Hangyul fixed him with an unimpressed glare. “Okay, okay, fine. I was just wondering because I overheard you singing in the shower the last time you came over.”

Hangyul looked surprised.

“… I thought you were asleep.”

Seungyoun shook his head. He shrugged, “Barely.”

 _“Oh.”_ The younger man suddenly looked nervous. He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. He cleared his throat, “So? Why do you ask?”

“I thought your voice was nice,” Seungyoun replied. He exhaled and shifted to prop himself up on his elbows. Seungyoun tilted his head, quietly gauging Hangyul’s reaction. He was careful with his words, “I need someone to record the demo for my final composition project… and I was wondering if you were interested in lending me your voice for it.”

Hangyul spent a few moments contemplating the offer. Seungyoun remained quiet, giving him the time to think over the offer.

Hangyul pursed his lips, “… don’t you usually have Wooseok hyung do your recordings for you?”

Seungyoun chuckled and shrugged. “Yeah,” he replied. “I do.”

“Then?” Hangyul sounded more curious than against the idea of recording for Seungyoun’s project. “Why are you asking me this time?”

Seungyoun scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Everything I submit has Wooseok’s voice in it, I guess.”

“So, you want something different?”

Seungyoun laughed.

“Well,” he replied, “I guess you could say it like that.”

Hangyul turned onto his side, resting his cheek against Seungyoun’s stomach as he looked up at the older man. He pursed his lips into a small frown, “Is there more to it?”

Seungyoun was quiet for a moment.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“It might sound weird.”

Hangyul laughed, “Tell me anyway.”

Seungyoun slid an arm behind his head and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought. He took a sharp breath, considering if he _really_ wanted to tell Hangyul why he was asking in the first place. Truthfully, Seungyoun wasn’t sure he wanted to face the reason himself.

He chewed on his lower lip.

“Is it that weird?” Hangyul furrowed his brows. “You’re hesitating.”

“I am,” Seungyoun mumbled. “Not sure I want to tell you.”

Hangyul hummed. His eyes glimmered with amusement, “Well, _I’m_ not sure I want to lend my voice to a man who doesn’t even want to tell me why he wants my voice, specifically.”

Seungyoun exhaled a puff of air. He scrunched up his nose.

“Fine,” he replied. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I said that it was kind of weird.” Hangyul urged him to continue speaking with a subtle nod and an amused smile. “It’s just… I kind of wrote the song with your voice in mind. So, I want to hear what it sounds like when you’re the one singing it.”

_“Oh.”_

“… please don’t react like that.”

The corner of Hangyul’s lips tugged upwards. He tilted his head, mischief glittering in his eyes when their eyes met, “What? Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“It’s making me feel like you’re judging me.”

“For?”

Seungyoun swallowed. “For making a song while thinking about your voice without even knowing if you would agree to record it for me.”

Hangyul grinned.

“ _Aw,_ I’m not judging you at all, you absolute baby.” Seungyoun made a face, half-offended. Hangyul laughed at that; the way Seungyoun’s facial expression contorted in disdain.

“I think I’m flattered that you were thinking about me at all,” Hangyul added, thoughtfully.

Seungyoun pretended that Hangyul’s words didn’t make something jolt in his heart. _It was strange._

Hangyul smiled at him and suddenly, he felt like was harder to breathe.

“I’d be happy to record your final project for you.”

* * *

“Look who it is.”

There was a playful note in Hangyul’s tone when he greeted him. The small smile on Hangyul’s lips was obvious when Seungyoun got to the front the line at the café and, if Seungyoun deluded himself enough, he might have considered the possibility that Hangyul was happy to see him.

They were swamped with people when Seungyoun entered the café with Wooseok in tow. Wooseok had been insistent that they both needed a third dose of caffeine for the day and it seemed that a majority of the students on campus shared that sentiment with Wooseok.

He rarely saw the café so busy.

And he rarely saw Hangyul without a smile on his lips but maybe that was because he was too used to seeing Hangyul off-campus. Seungyoun watched him quietly from the moment they entered the café. Hangyul’s brows were furrowed in concentration for the entirety of the time Seungyoun was watching him from his place in line—and luckily for Seungyoun, Wooseok didn’t say a word about it.

Luckily for Hangyul, Seungyoun was the last person in line. _That must have been why he smiled._

“Hey,” he greeted.

Hangyul leaned against the glass display of desserts, “What can I get you?”

Seungyoun glanced over at Wooseok. Wooseok rolled his eyes but stepped forward to order for them despite rolling his eyes at the way Seungyoun shot him pleading eyes.

“Two iced americanos, please, Hangyul,” Wooseok said. “Seungyoun is paying.”

Seungyoun shot his best friend a dirty look but reached into his back pocket for his wallet, anyway. Hangyul hid a quiet laugh, turning his head away to pretend he wasn’t laughing. Seungyoun’s lips subconsciously tugged into a small smile at the sight.

Their exchange wasn’t much more than that.

Hangyul handed them their drinks in exchange for Seungyoun’s credit card. And then, he and Wooseok made themselves comfortable at a table in the corner of the café.

Wooseok managed to help him with exactly three bars of music before he abandoned him in favour of texting his boyfriend. Having already finished his own, Seungyoun stole Wooseok’s coffee from his side of the table as revenge (“I paid for it anyway, you brat,” he hissed at his best friend).

They worked in near silence, comfortable in the white noise of the café—whispers from the other students working in the space surrounding them, along with the quiet music playing through the small space. At some point, the tapping of Wooseok’s fingers against his phone screen blended itself into the background noise.

Seungyoun’s attention was only stolen away from his composition when Hangyul approached their table from behind Seungyoun.

“Hey,” Hangyul placed his hands on Seungyoun’s shoulders from behind him. Seungyoun jumped in surprise but turned around to face Hangyul. Unfazed, Wooseok didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Oh, hey,” he repeated in greeting. “What’s up?”

Hangyul tilted his head with a laugh, “Byungchan hyung just sent me on break. I just wanted to check up on you because I noticed you were still hanging around in the café.”

“Were you hoping I was still around?”

Hangyul rolled his eyes at him but he didn’t answer the question.

“Are you still good for five?” Hangyul asked, instead.

Seungyoun nodded his head quickly and his eyes immediately brightened.

They had worked out the details over several text messages. It had been a week since Seungyoun had asked Hangyul to lend his voice for his final project. And for an entire week, Seungyoun found himself constantly thinking about the next time he would see Hangyul—absent thoughts rushing to him out of nowhere when he was busy doing _anything_.

For once, it wasn’t about sex. For once, they weren’t meeting intending to have sex.

And for some strange reason, Seungyoun felt strangely excited about it.

“Yeah,” he replied. “If you are.”

Wooseok peered at them, finally lowering his phone. “What’s this?” he asked, “A date?”

Seungyoun made a face.

“No, he’s just coming over to record something for my final project,” he said.

Wooseok arched an interested eyebrow at Seungyoun. He glanced up at Hangyul before directing his eyes back at Seungyoun, contemplative. Somehow, to Seungyoun, it almost felt like Wooseok’s gaze was drilling into him. _Maybe because he knew what his best friend was thinking._

Seungyoun swallowed around nothing. Something uncomfortable settled in his gut.

“It’s not a date, Wooseok. Stop looking at me like that.” Seungyoun scrunched up his nose at his best friend. Absently—almost as if it was trying to find comfort in Hangyul’s physical touch—he placed both of his hands atop the hands Hangyul had rested on his shoulders. “We’re just hanging out after school. It’s not like we’re dating.”

It might have been his imagination but Seungyoun swore he felt Hangyul’s grip suddenly tense from their place on Seungyoun’s shoulders—a poorly disguised flinch.

Hangyul cleared his throat and pressed his lips into a thin smile. He nodded, firmly.

“Yeah, Wooseok hyung. Don’t be so silly,” he added. Somehow, his tone sounded stiffer than it had been. “It’s not like we’re dating.”

He quickly excused himself to head back behind the counter.

* * *

Five o’clock came too quickly. And it passed equally as quickly.

Hangyul appeared at the front door of Seungyoun’s apartment with his hands shoved into the front pocket of an oversized hoodie, the hood pulled over his head. He nearly brushed past Seungyoun in complete silence when the older man stepped away from the front door to let him in.

Hangyul seemed almost a little uncomfortable in Seungyoun’s makeshift recording room. In almost complete silence, they sat side by side in front of Seungyoun’s computer—Hangyul in front of the microphone as Seungyoun navigated the folders on his desktop.

Something in the air felt too awkward. Seungyoun brushed it off as Hangyul’s nerves. It was likely his first time recording something for anyone. The nerves would make sense.

(It didn’t make sense that Hangyul kept several inches of distance between them, though.

It didn’t make sense when Seungyoun reached to place the headphones onto Hangyul’s ears, the younger man stiffened and held his breath until Seungyoun’s hands were away from him.)

“I recorded a guide for you,” Seungyoun mumbled. Seungyoun opened his project file and flashed a small smile at Hangyul. He looked back at his screen when he realized that Hangyul wasn’t looking at him. “It’s not the best but… I hope it helps.”

Hangyul nodded his head, quietly. He played with the edge of the paper on the desk.

“Your lyrics are so sad,” he commented.

Seungyoun scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

“Just a little bit, I guess,” he replied. Hangyul spared him a glance.

“They’re very…” Hangyul glanced back down at the piece of paper on the table. His eyes quickly scanned through the lyrics written on the sheet of paper, again. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It sounds like you’re yearning for something that you can’t have.”

Seungyoun’s eyes followed Hangyul’s line of sight.

He nodded his head.

“That’s the exact kind of feeling I want to express,” he said.

Hangyul nodded his head, his eyes still downcast on the lyrics.

Something in the space between them suddenly felt like it tensed—like there was something unspoken lingering in the space between them, comfortably settled in place for the sole purpose of making Seungyoun feel uncomfortable.

He glanced at Hangyul, “Can you do that for me?”

Hangyul was quiet for a moment. Then, he glanced at Seungyoun, silently.

He kept his gaze levelled with Seungyoun’s eyes when he whispered his response.

“Sure can, hyung.”

* * *

The recording session went well. It was quick.

For someone inexperienced in the recording studio, Hangyul finished his recordings a lot quicker than Seungyoun was used to when he was working with Wooseok.

But, after Hangyul left Seungyoun’s apartment that day, he didn’t hear a word from the younger man. His text messages were left unanswered and Hangyul pretended he was busy whenever Seungyoun walked by the café in the student centre. It was _strange_.

He couldn’t pinpoint where everything went wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint the pint in time where he did something that made Hangyul want to avoid him.

It didn’t make sense but he supposed that they never had a label to their relationship, anyway. It didn’t matter that Hangyul wanted to avoid him so suddenly. He had every right to.

Nothing was keeping them associated with one another outside of the sexual favours.

Their relationship was ambiguous and ambiguity meant uncertain ends.

He figured that maybe, Hangyul didn’t want to associate with him anymore. He didn’t know what he did wrong but maybe he was better off not knowing. Just like how it was better that he didn’t know what their relationship was meant to be in the first place.

_“Cho Seungyoun!”_

Seungyoun flinched when his name was called, visibly startling. It snapped him back to reality—a harsh grip that suddenly infiltrated his thoughts and dragged him roughly back to the ground. Seungyoun snapped back to reality with wide eyes.

He quickly whipped his head in the direction of the voice calling his name.

Across the football pitch, Seungwoo jogged over to where he was standing.

_They were in the middle of practice._

“Hey!”

Seungwoo’s steps came to a slowed stop when he reached earshot of the younger man. Seungyoun stared at his captain, guilty eyes focused on the older man as if he already knew that he was going to be scolded for spacing out in the middle of practice. Seungwoo looked frustrated.

“What’s up with you?” Seungwoo asked him with a frown. Despite his obvious frustration, his captain visibly put effort into speaking to him in level, calm tone. Seungyoun couldn’t be more grateful for Seungwoo. “You just completely missed a shot on an open net, Seungyoun.”

Shamefully, Seungyoun looked down at his feet. “Sorry.”

Seungwoo sighed, “No. You don’t need to apologize to me.” Seungwoo glanced behind himself at the other members of the football team who were staring at them in confusion. Then, he turned to look back at Seungyoun, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you good? Do you need to talk?”

“I’m okay,” Seungyoun replied, quietly. Seungwoo studied him, silent.

After a moment, he shook his head and exhaled.

“No, you’re not,” he said, firmly. His tone left no room for argument but Seungyoun wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight Seungwoo on his words, anyway. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to. But, you’re not in any condition to continue with practice today.”

Seungyoun shook his head, “No! I can do it. I can practice today, hyung. I’m fine.”

“No,” Seungwoo said. “As your captain, I’m telling you to sit out of practice for today. You can hang around on the bleachers if you want but I don’t want someone on the pitch when they can’t handle their own emotions. You’ll drag down the team’s morale, Seungyoun.”

Seungyoun exhaled a deep breath. Dejected, he nodded his head.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Banished from football practice by his team captain, Seungyoun kept himself busy on his phone when he sat on the bleachers, watching his teammates run through the drills. It felt weird leaving the field when everyone else was present at practice, so Seungyoun hunt around even though he wasn’t allowed to run around with them on the pitch.

But playing around his phone in the late afternoon dragged him to the familiar pattern of opening his conversation history with Hangyul. They usually texted one another around this time—just after Seungyoun’s football practice. It was when Hangyul usually finished his shift at the daycare.

Hangyul usually texted him with a cheeky emoji and Seungyoun would offer to drive him home. And then, they would pretend that Hangyul _hadn’t_ texted him suggestively; they would just pretend that everything worked out in their favour and Seungyoun would take Hangyul to his place instead.

But, the routine was abandoned. Hangyul hadn’t texted him in over a week.

Seungyoun abandoned his phone in favour of watching his teammates dribble the ball around the pylons set out on the pitch. He rested his elbow on his knee and spaced out.

There was the sound of metal clanging as someone climbed up the bleachers next to him.

The person’s shadow loomed over him and then Seungyoun felt them sit down next to him on the bleachers. Seungyoun slowly turned his head to look at the newcomer.

“Hi,” the other boy greeted with a cute tilt of his head. His eyes were bright and curious. He looked familiar but Seungyoun couldn’t pinpoint where they might have met before. “You’re usually out on the field with everyone else. Are you injured today?”

Seungyoun shook his head, “No. I was banished from practice.”

The boy made a face. “Oh no.”

Seungyoun sighed, “No, it’s okay. Seungwoo hyung is doing it for my benefit, I think.”

The boy smiled at that. He turned his head to look out at the field, searching for the team captain among the boys running through drills on the court.

“Please, don’t hate him for it,” he said. There was a soft affection glimmering in his eyes as he looked at the team captain, who guarded the net for the other team members to shoot. “Seungwoo hyung is a good person. He’s just worried about you, I’m sure.”

Seungyoun nodded.

He glanced at the boy, again.

He frowned. “… I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The boy laughed, a shy sound. He nodded his head, confirming Seungyoun’s suspicions that they’ve never actually met one another before.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” he said. “I forgot to introduce myself when I sat down. I’m Yohan.”

 _Yohan._ Seungyoun racked his brain to figure out why the name sounded so familiar.

“You’re Seungyoun hyung, right?” Yohan asked, tilting his head cutely at the older man. Seungyoun nodded his head, a little confused that Yohan already knew his name. “Seungwoo hyung talks about you a lot. He says you’re one of the best players on the team.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Yohan laughed. He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes twinkling. “I don’t mean to freak you out but this probably sounds so weird because I already know who you are. I’m close with Seungwoo hyung and we talk a lot about the team. He’s particularly fond of you.”

“He’s fond of me?”

“You’re his favourite,” Yohan confirmed with a nod. He beamed, “Next to me.”

Seungyoun’s lips quirked into an amused smile. He shook his head in amusement, “He banishes his favourite player to the bleachers to think about his feelings like a timeout.”

Yohan pursed his lips, “He pretends that he doesn’t know, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Seungwoo hyung likes to pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on until you come to him to talk about it yourself,” Yohan explained. The younger man toyed with his fingers as he spoke, “I don’t think it’s my place to say anything more about it, but… he knows everything but he’ll wait until you ask him for help. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries but he wants to help.”

Seungyoun hesitated. _Did that mean that Seungwoo knew about his relationship with Hangyul? Did that mean that Seungwoo already knew what was happening between them?_ Hangyul was Seungwoo’s childhood friend and they still kept in close contact. It was ridiculous for Seungyoun to assume that Seungwoo didn’t have a clue about what was happening right in front of him.

“... would he stop me if I was doing something stupid?” he asked. Yohan tilted his head.

“ _Are_ you doing something stupid?”

Seungyoun pursed his lips in thought. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

Yohan hummed in thought. The younger man crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his fingers against the side of his thigh as he thought.

Yohan was careful with his words, “Did that question have anything to do with why you were so spaced out that Seungwoo hyung kicked you off of the court for the day?”

Seungyoun sighed.

He turned his head to look at Yohan, who peered back at him with wide, attentive eyes. Somehow, talking to Yohan felt comfortable. He just met the younger man but it felt better to tell someone he didn’t even know about his problems.

(It was better than telling Wooseok, who was probably right all this time and was waiting for him to admit to himself that there was something he kept denying.)

“I think I hurt someone,” he said, staring down at his phone guiltily. Saying it aloud made it feel more real. It made him feel like the problem was right in front of him: somehow, he hurt Hangyul and he couldn’t even pinpoint where it started. Maybe he was the problem, to begin with. “We’ve had a really weird relationship and I… I don’t know what I did but he hasn’t been talking to me.”

“A weird relationship?” Yohan repeated. He raised an eyebrow at him.

Seungyoun shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he replied. Seungyoun slowly ran his fingers through his hair in frustration—with himself, with the situation, with the fact that he hadn’t received a single text message from Hangyul in days. Hangyul hadn’t even _opened_ the last message Seungyoun sent him. “I don’t know what’s going on… we were intimate but it didn’t really mean anything to either of us. And then, one day, he just vanished and I don’t know what’s going on. It’s been a week since he texted me.”

Yohan studied him quietly. It was the same gaze that Seungwoo looked at him with before he sent him to sit down on the bleachers. Yohan pursed his lips in thought.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he started. “But… have you ever thought about why it bothers you so much that he hasn’t texted you?”

Seungyoun fell quiet.

“What do you mean?” _He felt like he knew exactly what Yohan meant._

“If this was about intimacy,” Yohan continued, careful with the way he strung his words together. “If that was the root of the problem, I’m sure you wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone else to fill his place. But, I don’t think that’s it.” He glanced at Seungyoun with a small frown on his lips, “Have you thought about why it bothers you, hyung?”

Seungyoun swallowed.

“It sounds like you know exactly what I’m thinking,” he muttered. Yohan shrugged.

“If I do,” he said, “am I right in thinking it?”

Seungyoun didn’t have the chance to answer Yohan. Seungwoo’s voice interrupted them.

The practice had ended while they were talking and everyone already left the field. They were the only ones left on the bleachers and Seungwoo was waiting for them at the bottom of the bleachers. His arms were comfortably wrapped around the ball as he looked up at them.

“Hey,” Seungwoo called from the bottom of the bleachers. “You ready to go, babe?”

Yohan smiled and got up from his place on the bleachers. “Yeah!”

He placed a hand on Seungyoun’s shoulder and flashed him a comforting smile.

“Good luck!” he mouthed.

He hopped down the bleachers to link his arm with Seungwoo’s, his bright eyes glimmering under the afternoon sunlight as he looked up at the taller man. It was endearing.

Seungwoo offered Seungyoun a wave before he turned to walk away with Yohan. And suddenly, Seungyoun couldn’t help but think about the first time he met Hangyul: comfortably seated on the bleachers and waiting for the game to end, rushing into Seungwoo’s arms when the game was over.

Suddenly, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if that was him.

Seungyoun swore under his breath.

* * *

His realization spurred something inside of him.

As soon as he finished changing out of his practice clothes, Seungyoun found himself on the other side of campus, standing just outside the daycare that Hangyul worked at—out of breath because he ran without noticing that the was. He must have looked crazy, running across campus at nearly five in the afternoon when there were so few people on campus.

He took a deep breath—a reckless attempt to stabilize his breathing again. Then, almost holding his breath, he walked up to the fence that separated campus grounds from the daycare.

The playground was almost empty.

Seungyoun searched the playground for the familiar child he always saw Hangyul with.

This time, Seungyoun found Dohyon on a tricycle.

“Dohyon-ah!” he called. The child immediately turned to look at him when he heard his name. The child’s eyes brightened and he quickly paddled over to the fence to peer at Seungyoun.

“Seungyoun hyung!”

“Hey, buddy,” Seungyoun crouched down to look at Dohyon through the fence at eye level. Dohyon looked excited to see him again. “I have a question for you.”

“A question!” Dohyon repeated with enthusiasm. His eyes were bright. “What is it?”

“Do you know where your Teacher Hangyul is?”

Dohyon frowned, suddenly. He shook his head.

“I don’t know. Teacher Hangyul didn’t come to daycare, today,” Dohyon told him, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Seungyoun frowned. At Seungyoun’s reaction, Dohyon visibly thought harder—he rested his hand on his chin and frowned in thought. Then, Dohyon’s eyes suddenly brightened, “But Teacher Jinhyuk is here, today!”

“Yes, I’m here today. It’s just me and the kids at the daycare today,” Jinhyuk’s voice interrupted his conversation with Dohyon. Immediately, Seungyoun rose to his feet to look at his best friend’s boyfriend in the eyes. The other man offered him a small smile, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Seungyoun greeted. Jinhyuk nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Are you looking for Hangyul?” he asked. Seungyoun nodded. “He’s avoiding you.”

 _Ouch._ Seungyoun winced.

He swallowed, “Why?”

In place of an answer, Jinhyuk flashed him a smile. It was knowing, but it almost seemed to express pity. It made something ugly crawl in the pit of Seungyoun’s stomach. 

There was something about the look on Jinhyuk’s face that told him everything he needed to know. It looked like the way Wooseok looked at him when he vehemently denied that his little hangout with Hangyul was a date. 

Seungyoun resisted the urge to flinch at the way Jinhyuk’s gaze made him feel like something was stabbing into his gut.

“Why do you think?”

* * *

“No,” Wooseok crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Seungyoun.

He was seated on the sofa in Seungyoun’s apartment. Seungyoun had bribed his best friend into coming over to his apartment to _‘do something important for him’_ with the promise of free coffee for a week. “I will _not_ record the background vocals for your final project, Seungyoun.”

“Wooseok, _please_ ,” Seungyoun draped himself over the arm of the sofa next to his best friend. For someone so tall, it looked comical for him to be sprawled over the sofa, shapeless and helpless. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything you want.”

Wooseok frowned, “That’s not a tempting enough offer. I’ve had enough of your sulking.”

“Aren’t you supposed to _listen_ to my sulking?” Seungyoun whined, “You’re my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend,” Wooseok said, “and that’s exactly why I’m suggesting that you do what’s good for you. For you, your final grade, and your dumb boy problems.”

“ _Wooseok_ ,” Seungyoun took his best friend’s hand into his own, pleading. Wooseok stared at his hand, nose scrunched up as if he were disgusted that Seungyoun was touching him—and again, Seungyoun was reminded that it really wasn’t surprising that Wooseok was awarded the _Best Drama Student_ award when they graduated high school.

“Seungyoun,” Wooseok said, sternly, “I’m not doing the backing vocals for a track that already has someone else’s voice on it.”

“Then, record the entire song for me.”

Wooseok huffed. He laughed, dry and disbelieving. He gave his best friend a slow once-over, studying the way Seungyoun dramatically pouted at him.

“You want me to record the _entire_ song for you?” he repeated, “After you already had Hangyul record everything but the backing vocals? You’re going to break Hangyul’s heart like this?”

Like a kicked puppy, Seungyoun deflated.

“… you don’t have to say it like that.”

“Oh, but I _do_ ,” Wooseok said, “else, you’d never listen to me, even knowing that I’m right.”

“This has nothing to do with whether or not I listen to you,” Seungyoun argued. “This is my grade for a course. It shouldn’t have anything to do with my boy problems!”

Wooseok fixed his best friend with an unimpressed glare.

“This has _everything_ to do with your boy problems, Seungyoun,” Wooseok said. “You’re refusing to ask Hangyul to record the final touches to your song _because_ of your boy problems.”

_“No, that’s not—!”_

“Then, get Hangyul to do it.”

Seungyoun made a weak, desperate sound of defeat.

“But, Hangyul isn’t talking to me.”

Wooseok scoffed, “Then, _fix_ that.”

Seungyoun stared down at his hands and toyed with his fingers, awkward. “… I can’t.”

Wooseok ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. He flicked Seungyoun’s forehead with an annoyed huff. When the other man fell back and clutched his minor injury, Wooseok straightened himself up on the sofa with his arms crossed back over his chest.

“You’re stupid,” he declared. Seungyoun frowned.

“Hey… that’s not very nice.”

Wooseok rolled his eyes, “Listen, you’re not being very nice to Hangyul, either.” Wooseok shot his best friend a pointed look. Seungyoun shrivelled under Wooseok’s withering glare. He tried to make himself look smaller from his place on the floor. “I’m not going to force you to do something that you don’t want to do, but I honestly do think you should try harder to contact him, Seungyoun. Texting him _‘hey’_ after an entire week of not talking to him isn’t sufficient. _I_ would ignore you, too.”

“… but, what if I ruin it?” Seungyoun murmured. Wooseok reached out to take his best friend’s hand, taking pity on Seungyoun because of the way the other man sounded so defeated.

“Seungyoun,” he called, softly, “haven’t you always been obsessed with that one quote about how you’re always going to miss all the chances you don’t take? From that one book that you constantly read while we were growing up?” Seungyoun nodded his head. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

Seungyoun sighed.

“I don’t want to be making so many assumptions about what he feels. What if he just doesn’t want anything to do with me, suddenly?” Seungyoun said. “I mean, it’s not like we ever had a proper label to what we were. We were just kind of fucking and catching feelings is on _me_.”

Wooseok frowned.

“Youn…” he sighed. He squeezed Seungyoun’s hand, gently, “Listen to me for a second, okay?”

Miserably, Seungyoun nodded his head.

“Do you think I would have a boyfriend that I’m thinking about proposing to if I was too afraid of taking chances?” Wooseok asked. It was obvious that his question was rhetorical.

He continued, “What’s the worst that could happen when you take a chance? Hangyul already isn’t willing to talk to you, right now. You could leave it like that. You could choose to do nothing and just leave it like that. Not doing anything is just leaving the nail to drill itself into the coffin. You don’t _need_ to try to talk to him—you could just let him go.”

Seungyoun looked up at Wooseok with watery eyes.

Wooseok’s voice softened, “Both ways, the worst thing that could happen is that you lose him for good. But if you just _talk to him_ , then at least you’ll have a chance at keeping him.”

* * *

Seungyoun’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened to the dial tone.

Three days after Wooseok scolded him from trying to run away from his problems—and then comforted him as he cried in his arms about how he wished he dared to throw caution to the wind and jump at chances—Seungyoun finally worked up the courage to do more than simply stare at his phone. He finally worked up the courage to do more than helplessly hope that Hangyul would be the one who messaged him first.

In his thrumming anticipation, Seungyoun nearly had his breath knocked out of his lungs when the call connected and Hangyul’s voice filtered through the phone.

The younger man sounded sleepy and confused as if the call had just woken up from a nap and he hadn’t even had the chance to look at the caller identification before he picked up the phone.

_“Hello? Hangyul speaking.”_

Seungyoun took a deep breath.

“Hangyul,” Seungyoun exhaled. “It’s me. Seungyoun.”

There was silence on the other end of the line; hesitation. Seungyoun held his breath.

“Please, don’t hang up.”

He heard a soft breath from Hangyul’s end. Then, defeated, the younger man sighed.

 _“Okay,”_ he said. _“I’m listening. What do you want, hyung?”_

Seungyoun gripped his phone, nervous. He pretended that it didn’t hurt when Hangyul spoke so harshly. But, he deserved it. He couldn’t deny that he deserved to be coldly spoken to.

He inhaled sharply, “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now. I’m okay with it if you hate me after everything too, you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling and I can’t stop you. I can’t expect to understand if I never asked in the first place. But…” He paused. His hands felt sweaty, “Can I come over? I have something for you.”

Hangyul remained quiet for a long moment. 

Seungyoun waited with bated breath.

 _“Okay, fine,”_ Hangyul whispered, finally.

His acceptance felt like a rush of fresh air.

Seungyoun felt the relief wash over him. The _chance_ was enough for him.

_“Come over in fifteen minutes.”_

* * *

Hangyul looked tired when he opened the door.

Seungyoun couldn’t blame him for looking so tired. He must have had so much to worry about on top of his relationship with Seungyoun—whatever it was—and all of their struggles. Hangyul deserved better than that. But, it didn’t hurt to try. That’s what Wooseok spent the weekend drilling into his head and Seungyoun couldn’t let his best friend down.

(He couldn’t let himself down.)

“Hi,” he greeted Hangyul with his hands folded behind his back. Hangyul managed to press his lips into a thin smile. He nodded his head and stepped out of the way to let Seungyoun through the door.

Seungyoun stepped in past him with a timid smile.

Hangyul’s eyes followed him.

“How have you been?” Hangyul managed to ask. Seungyoun turned around to look at him.

“Do you want to skip the small talk?” he asked. Hangyul hesitated.

“… I’m not sure I’m ready to skip the small talk,” he answered. Seungyoun looked down at his feet. He inhaled a sharp breath and squeezed his wrists behind his back in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“I’ll be honest: I’m not sure I’ll have the courage to do what I came here to do if I wait any longer.”

Hangyul raised his eyes to look at him in curiosity.

“And what did you come here to do?”

Seungyoun swallowed.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said. He fished his phone out of his pocket and shifted his eyes nervously as he held onto it. Hangyul watched him, quietly.

Then, the younger man motioned him to follow him.

“Come,” he said as he walked deeper into the apartment. “Let’s sit down. You look like you’re going to collapse if you stand across from me any longer.”

Quietly, Seungyoun followed him. Hangyul glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Seungyoun was following him. The younger man looked a little nervous. He shifted his eyes.

“My roommate is home,” he said, “so, we have to go to my room. I hope that’s okay.”

Seungyoun nodded his head, meekly.

“It’s fine,” he squeaked. Hangyul opened the door to his bedroom and motioned for Seungyoun to step into his room with a tilt of his head.

Seungyoun shuffled into his bedroom. Hangyul followed him and shut the door behind them.

Suddenly, he felt too aware of everything. Suddenly, it felt like they were locked in his bedroom again, and they were bound to do something risqué. But this time, they were in Hangyul’s bedroom and Seungyoun’s heart was heavy with a million words he wanted to say.

Hangyul moved past him to take a seat on the edge of his bed. He patted the spot next to him.

“Come,” he instructed.

Seungyoun obediently followed his instructions and moved to sit next to Hangyul.

He felt his heart racing in his chest. His breathing felt uneven and he wasn’t sure how Hangyul was keeping his cool. His anxious thoughts whispered: _maybe you were overthinking._

He swallowed the thought. He couldn’t succumb to his thoughts and run away again.

It was worth a shot to just _try_. Seungyoun placed his trust in himself to make things right.

“So,” Hangyul looked at him. “What did you want to show me?”

Seungyoun looked down at his phone. His throat felt dry.

“Um,” he said. He shifted on Hangyul’s bed, a little nervous. “It’s… it’s the song that you recorded for me. I wanted to show you the final product.”

Hangyul pursed his lips in thought.

“You couldn’t just send it to me?” he asked. Seungyoun avoided his eyes.

“I… I wanted to see your reaction,” he murmured, “in person.”

Hangyul barely even seemed to flinch at Seungyoun’s words. It killed the small spark of hope in Seungyoun’s chest. His nerves threatened to swallow him alive when Hangyul nodded his head.

Hangyul peered over Seungyoun’s shoulder at his phone, “Okay, then. Show me, then.”

Holding his breath, Seungyoun tapped the play button on the screen of his phone. He could only hope that everything would work out accordingly to his plans.

The soft melody of the song started to play through the small room; unfamiliar to Hangyul.

Hangyul’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “This isn’t—…”

 _‘This isn’t the same song you had me record,’_ was what he was going to say. Seungyoun knew.

Seungyoun cut him off, desperately, _“Please, just listen to it.”_

Hangyul met his eyes and fell silent. He folded his hands into his lap, patiently.

Seungyoun was a coward when it came to expressing his feelings. That much was obvious from the fact that he couldn’t directly ask Hangyul to define their relationship. That much was obvious from the fact that they had to take the long route to wherever they were, now.

He wasn’t eloquent with his words when he was put on the spot. So, he spent an entire weekend locked up in his makeshift studio composing a song to confess his feelings.

He watched Hangyul’s facial expression change as he listened to the lyrics—a myriad of confusion that shifted into contemplation, to something unreadable.

As the music faded out, Hangyul’s eyes met with Seungyoun’s. He looked like there were a million questions he wanted to ask. Seungyoun took a deep breath, willing to answer all of them.

“Listen to me first, please,” he whispered. Hangyul nodded quietly. Seungyoun inhaled sharply, “I’m so stupid. I don’t know where I first went wrong, Hangyul. I won’t know if you don’t tell me. But, the point of this isn’t for me to blame you. This isn’t your fault.”

Seungyoun paused. His fingers nervously drummed against the back of his phone.

“I didn’t want to say anything because I desperately didn’t want to ruin a good thing,” Seungyoun explained. “I didn’t know what we were but I was too afraid that if I asked to put a name on it, I’d end up ruining whatever the hell we had. But, here I am because it seems like I messed up anyway. I can’t apologize for what I did because I don’t know which part of me upset you. I was dumb and afraid but… I genuinely like you, Hangyul. I like you a lot and it’s killing me that you’re avoiding me.”

He shifted on Hangyul’s bed.

“I guess… the bottom line is that I came here to gift you a song to express my feelings because I’m shit at doing that,” Seungyoun admitted, quietly. Seungyoun lowered his phone into his lap and sighed. He peered at the younger man, nervous, “And… my heart, if you want it.”

Hangyul studied Seungyoun’s expression for a moment, quietly. Seungyoun felt his heart pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out. He felt as if he was exposed—bare to be judged. Hangyul’s eyes felt like they were burning and Seungyoun shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Then, finally, Hangyul reached out to gently touch Seungyoun’s shoulder, his warm fingertips lingering against him. Seungyoun tensed under his touch. _This felt familiar._

“You’re so stupid,” Hangyul whispered, softly. Seungyoun winced at the insult. But, he figured he deserved it. Then, Hangyul leaned a little closer to him and Seungyoun held his breath. “I liked you since the first time I kissed you, you idiot.”

 _This felt even more familiar._ There was something about the way that Hangyul looked up at him from under long lashes, so close to his face. There was something glittering in his eyes, something Seungyoun’s mind dared to believe was gentle affection.

His nerves held onto him, impossibly tight.

Seungyoun’s fingers gripped into the sheets beneath them.

For the first time in forever, Seungyoun didn’t know what to do with himself. All he knew was to wait with bated breath for Hangyul to make a move. All he could do was wait for Hangyul to move closer to him and act on his thoughts. It all felt so familiar.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, breathlessly.

“Me?” Hangyul murmured, “I’m going to kiss you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/yuseokki) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjokkiri) ♡  
> writing this _almost_ killed me, i swear.


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